


Echoes Down the Line

by kristin



Category: Southland
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-03
Updated: 2010-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristin/pseuds/kristin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It made him feel old, like he was a damn rotary telephone while this kid was a shiny iPhone. Funny how seeing one kid made him more decrepit than hobbling around like a damn cripple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes Down the Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mjules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjules/gifts).



> Thanks to the_afterlight for betaing and helping to prompt this.

"So."

"So?" John raised his eyebrow at whatshisname, Chickie's little boy, Tristan. Fuck, he was getting tall. It made him feel old, like he was a damn rotary telephone while this kid was a shiny iPhone. Funny how seeing one kid made him more decrepit than hobbling around like a damn cripple.

"Are you going to actually say anything? Because no way are you getting a beer, kiddo." John continued after a few beats of silence.

"I wasn't really planning on it, no." Tristan rolled his eyes.

"You're here for the ambiance then? Because, gotta tell you, there are more exciting things out there. Plus, I'm guessing you get to see it pretty often. Spill." John gestured at Chickie's weedy backyard, the beer sloshing pleasantly in the bottle.

Tristan smiled, leaning back against the corner of the garage. "Surprised you aren't a detective with that logic." He nodded over to the grill where Chickie was holding court for the assorted cops, debating the type of charcoal. "Mom has some creepy idea that I should talk to you, so I figure if she sees us talking she'll get off my back."

"About what do we need to chat?" John began running through a list of lectures he might be forced to recite. The kid was a surfer, so most likely it was the 'your mom might not arrest you for smoking pot but someone else might' speech. Tristan was still waffling, so John took another long pull of his beer. This proved to be a tactical mistake.

"I came out to Mom last week and she has been freaking a bit. Like, she's pretty supportive, but in a really weird way, all quiet and too PC. Mom is a cop, talks like a fucking cop, but now she is watching ever word she says. And then she came up with this idea that I should be talking to you about it for some reason."

The beer felt way too solid in his throat. John swallowed, hard, before it decided to slide up instead of down. The kid was just gushing out words in steady stream that made him almost regret having this conversation. Fucking Chickie and her brilliant ideas. He was trying to catch her eye and convey that maybe a heads up would have been warranted in this situation when he realized Tristan had stopped talking.

"Congratulations."

"That's all you're going to say?" Tristan hunched his shoulders inwards. "Why are you just congratulating me?"

"Well, you figured out who you are at this age, told your mom, told me. I think that warrants a congratulations." John knew he should probably be looking at the kid's face when he said this, convey his sincerity. Fuck it, he could do that much. He turned to look at Tristan. "I didn't get that far until I was way older than you.

"I never did get tell my fuck-off father, and I hurt some people and needed a lot of therapy before I could do what you did last week. So don't expect me to be some font of all gay wisdom, but you need to talk? I can do that."

The kid, Tristan, looked away. John was good with pretending his eyes weren't a little bright. He turned to watch the grilling in progress, apparently just in time judging by the smoke.

"Jesus fucking Christ, I leave for five minutes and look what happens." John strode over to join the group. He started examining the grill and felt Chickie step up beside him, looking down at the charred remains.

John glances up. Tristan is looking over, so he nods his head in invitation. In the corner of his eye he notices Chickie echoing his movement. Tristan walks over towards them, a tentative smile on his face.


End file.
